You Are Not Alone
by fideliusfelicis
Summary: Hermione is dealing with the fallout after the war. Draco is unhappy in his current match, but trying to redeem the Malfoy name. Can they find everything they're looking for in each other? Will Hermione let go of the past? EWE.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger knew what it was like to be alone. She had grown up alone, no siblings to tease her or for her to confide in. Sure, she had many neighborhood friends, and the kids in her year at primary school, but somewhere, in the back of her mind, she always knew she was built to be alone.

The Second Wizarding War had taken its toll on her emotionally. While she assisted Harry in searching for the remaining horcruxes, occasionally with Ron's help, she resented being forced to grow up too quickly. They were barely legal adults in the Wizarding world, let alone in the muggle world, which she found herself missing more and more over the years.

Hermione had made the brave decision to start over. Her parents were still living in Australia; their memories now returned, they decided the lives they had been living had a certain appeal far from the bustle of London. Harry and Ginny were constantly on the go, between her busy quidditch practices and his constant work. She had barely spoken to either of them in the last four years.

Her thoughts began drifting to Ron. Oh, Ron. She thought he had been the love of her life. When they kissed in the Chamber during the Final Battle, she was certain he would never leave her. Yet, when the adrenaline rush faded and the rubble had been cleared, he found himself seeking solace for the ones they had lost by throwing himself into the newfound stardom. _Yes,_ she thought bitterly, _he can't got a solid week without appearing on_ Witch Weekly's _cover with some young, pretty thing on his arm_.

She had expected them to adjust to being the most famous Wizard-folk alive in different ways. Their personalities were always so different, anyway. When Hermione realized that she had seen the flash of enough cameras, been owled for enough interviews, and had done enough charity work in the name of those they had lost, she had nowhere to turn. That had been three years ago. Ron never understood, of course. He constantly told her that if people stopped talking about them, about the War, people would forget, and if people forgot… well, they would forget Fred. And Tonks. And Lupin.

Hermione had understood. Their faces constantly haunted her nightmares. She missed her friends more than she could ever express. She constantly felt heavy with the weight of everything she had seen in her eighteen years.

So she ran.

Three years ago, Hermione Granger picked up her life and ran away. She had decided to travel the world, claiming to be doing research to understand the differences in how Wizard-folk around the world lived. But when she would lay in bed, late in the night, she couldn't deny one thing: _she ran because she had to, because she needed to know there were parts of the world untouched by war._

* * *

Draco was certain his head would explode. His fiancée kept changing her mind. First it was the date, then the location, then the colors, then the location again…. Would it ever end?

He had told Astoria that she could plan whatever type of wedding she wanted, he only had one requirement: no reporters. This had caused another argument, of course. How could she, on the most important day of her life, not be photographed for the front page of every Wizard newspaper and gossip magazine she had heard of? After all, it befits a Malfoy bride, and didn't Draco want to show he was marrying the best for his station in life?

She had even tried to trick him into circumventing his own rule. Her first three locations had been glaringly public, without any real reasoning. _Who gets married in the middle of Diagon Alley, with a reception at the damn Leaky Cauldron?_ He snorted, remembering how earnestly she tried to convince him that it just "made sense" since their first date had been in Diagon Alley.

Today she had tried to convince him that some no-name photographer from _Witch Weekly_ was the biggest up and coming photographer in the Wizarding world and they just **_had_** to have him do their wedding photos.

That was when he walked out. He had found himself circling a familiar part of the Manor's expansive grounds. As a boy, he had played here often while his mother tended her small garden. The flowers had been magically charmed by him to stay alive and exactly how he remembered them looking.

He missed his mother. In the aftermath of the War, they had decided it would be best if his mother and father did some traveling. While the charges against them had been dropped thanks to Harry Potter's testimony of how Narcissa lied to the Dark Lord saving all of their lives, Draco knew it would be difficult for the Malfoy name to be taken seriously if his father was still the head of the family.

This was why he didn't want any press at his nuptials. Hell, he wouldn't even be marrying Astoria if he had a better option. Her family had remained out of the fray, declaring for neither side in the war, and therefore marrying her was a strategic move on his part to continue building his business. She was beautiful, sure, but she could never offer him an intellectual challenge.

He found himself thinking of Granger. He had never found her attractive no, but her intelligence could never be denied. She always rose to his challenges. Sure, he had been taught that those of muggle birth were below him, but he could not deny that she was, in fact, superior to him in every way but one. Bookworm Granger and brooms. He laughed remembering the moment he first noticed her: first year during flying lessons. Having flown for as long as he could remember, even the worn brooms of Hogwarts responded instinctively to him. He watched her for a few weeks after that. She was so quick witted, he never would have known she was muggleborn, not from the way his father had described their kind at least.

Draco took a seat on the bench outside his mothers garden, thinking back to the day he saw Granger paling around with Potter and Weasley. He knew, then, that he could never befriend her. But he never would have teased her as much as he did if it hadn't been for the fact it was the easiest way to anger Weasley.

A loud _pop_ brought him back from his thoughts. Blinky, his favorite house elf, had appeared in front of him looking nervous.

"What is it now? Are the centerpieces not large enough?" Draco sighed.

"Miss is very upset," Blinky began twisting his uniform in his hands, "She says if Master isn't going to give her what she wants, she doesn't want to be his wife."

Draco could tell the elf had overheard this, but was not told to seek him out. The elf had always had a soft spot for Draco, and had always tried to prevent him from hurt.

"Blinky, go to the kitchens and oversee dinner preparations," Draco said as he patted the elf's head. Standing, he stretched his arms over his head. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Hermione woke up with a sore neck. _That's what I get for sleeping on a plane_ , she muttered. She could have apparated, sure, but she had been using magic less and less over the last three years and wasn't sure she could successfully make it back to London without splinching herself.

The hotel she stayed in last night hadn't been much more comfortable than the plane. Though, maybe that was because she felt incredibly tense about returning to England after being away for so long. That had to be it.

She took a quick shower, amazed at how much quicker her morning routine could be now that she had cut her once-long locks into a short and manageable bob. Wiping the steam from the mirror with her hand, she noticed the dark circles under her eyes and reached for her wand to magic them away.

Staring at her reflection with her now-dry hair, she couldn't help but remember Malfoy's incessant teasing about how bushy it had been at Hogwarts. _Strange_ , she thought, _I haven't even had a fleeting thought about him since the Final Battle, it must be being back here,_ she mused as she started getting dressed.

She wasn't sure why she had come back. It hadn't really been a conscious decision. She had been traveling through America for the last year, taking in the sights and making new friends with wizards over there, but she just missed London.

Christmas was coming, only three weeks away, and she chalked the decision to return up to the fact she hadn't seen a London Christmas in ages. With one last glance at her appearance, making sure all evidence of her exhaustion was masked, Hermione Granger made her way downstairs and out of the Leaky Cauldron.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco had taken it upon himself to pick up the coffee, tea, and pastries for this mornings business meeting. Normally he would have gladly let the responsibility fall on his assistant's shoulders, but he was grateful for the opportunity to get out of the house earlier than usual.

Astoria had been harder to console last night. She spent three hours trying to convince him that she was going to leave. He knew that she wouldn't, of course. Marrying Draco was something she could only ever have aspired to in the past. This was going to be the highlight of her life. But he had to play the attentive fiancée role, ensuring her that he loved her and run a comforting hand down her back as tears wracked her body.

 _Bloody hell_ , he thought, remembering last night, _if I knew she would have been this much drama, I would have chosen Pansy instead_. Pansy would have loved to become Lady Malfoy, he knew. She dreamed about it since they could talk, of course. She had been the logical choice when the time came for him to take a bride, but her family had been too closely aligned with his own during the War.

While they remained good friends, Pansy had taken Draco's relationship with Astoria personally, and had seemed to permanently attach herself to Theodore Nott's hip. _Not that Nott minds much_ , Draco chuckled. Nott had build an impressive fortune after his father's estate had been stripped away. Draco wasn't sure what business Nott was involved in, as they rarely spoke but on formal occasions, but found himself wondering if the business was entirely legal.

 _That type of money only comes from one place…_ Draco was so lost in thought as he entered the coffee shop that he bumped into someone walking out.

"Watch yourself," he huffed, not at all in the mood to deal with people this morning.

He noticed the girl – _was she a girl? Sure she was short, but she seemed filled out_ – had spilled tea down the front of her jumper. He felt bad for a moment before he brushed past her, anxious to get back to his thoughts.

* * *

Hermione was incredibly glad she had pulled a hat on over her short hair, though she was sure he would still recognize her. Without saying a word, she dried the front of her jumped and walked out of _Hazel's Honey Pot_.

 _What a ridiculous name for a place_ , Hermione snorted as she opened the door at _Flourish and Blotts_. Ah, home. She had not found a bookstore that compared in all of her traveling, and was excited to waste her day away. Nearly running to the nearest display, Hermione almost felt like herself again.

She hadn't noticed that morning had turned into afternoon turned into evening and that half the lanters in Diagon Alley had been lit. Safely seated between the window and the mountain of books she had collected, Hermione found herself actually _enjoying_ her day. How strange. Sure, she had some great memories from the last three years. She loved learning to ski in the Swiss Alps, or making pasta from scratch in Italy. She fondly remembered sneaking into a taping of some ridiculous television show in California, and learning Chinese as she traveled to see the Great Wall.

But Hermione would never lie to herself. Every time she left to travel to a new place, every time she said goodbye to the friends she knew she wouldn't keep in touch with, every time she saw a glint of red hair, or glasses… Merlin, the shape of his glasses, Hermione would fall apart a little.

She usually spent the first few weeks in a new city completely closed off. She would wallow in her emptiness before throwing herself into the culture she sought to experience. This would work for a few months, usually, before she felt herself falling apart again. Then it was always time to leave. She would promise her friends she would keep in touch, knowing it was a lie, and make plans to return. She would never return. Never. She knew loss, it was as real to her as the air she breathed, and once people were gone from her life, she knew they could never return.

This was how she coped with losing so many friends, mentors, teachers, and loved ones during the Final Battle. She merely adjusted to thinking they were gone, like so many other friends and lovers over the last three years. Surely they couldn't really be dead. No, Fred's laughter still filled the Burrow. Tonks and Lupin were still anxiously awaiting the arrival of Teddy. Yes, this was much better. This made her feel less guilty that she had survived, instead of dozens of wizards who had been trained and prepared. She didn't deserve to survive.

Her eyes were tired, she was sure her charms had worn off and the circles were obvious, but she didn't care. Lost in a world far different from her own, Hermione relished the ability to feel for the heroine in the story. She found it hard to glance away as she heard someone clearing their throat in front of her.

"Miss Granger?" Hermione smiled at the shop boy, knowing he was slightly intimidated by her reputation.

"My boss wanted me to inform you that we are now closed for a regular business day, and while he would enjoy nothing more than to let a war hero such as yourself continue reading into the night, he is quite concerned that you have not eaten today," he trailed off, knowing it was not his place to babysit Hermione, "but if you would like to continue your books, we could have them sent to your residence."

Hermione continued her practiced smile at the boy. She had not realized how late it had gotten, and now that he mentioned it, she felt the pangs of hunger.

"I am grateful for your offer, but please, allow me to pay for the books, including the three I finished today," she said reaching into her handbag.

"Oh, no, we could never accept that. Not after everything you did for us," the boy stammered, blushing.

Hermione was not in the mood to be fawned over. That's why she left, after all, so she just nodded, "have the lot sent to the Leaky Cauldron, please."

Leaving the shop, Hermione realized few businesses were still open this time of night. Curse her for getting lost in a book. She blushed thinking back to the book she had been reading, too. It wasn't one she would normally pick up, but the idea of a daring star-crossed-lovers romance seemed appealing to her right now.

 _Merlin, would I love a good shag_ , she thought, instantly cursing her head for going there. Hermione had been with men, of course, but it never lived up to her standards. Many times she used sex as a way to keep people around, to trick herself into thinking they cared about her. She knew they only stayed for her body, but she would tell herself that they loved her as she let them in.

She shook her head, walking back to the Leaky Cauldron. She'd order a Firewhiskey, or five, and some food before bed.

* * *

Draco hadn't had a very productive day today. He had been out of sorts since he had ran into that witch in the coffee shop. His day had been made infinitely worse to come back to the Manor to find Daphne and Blaise had been invited for dinner.

Plastering on a smile as his fiancée greeted him in the entry way, Draco listened as Astoria told him that it only made sense to have the Best Man and Maid of Honor over for dinner and drinks.

"Of course, love, whatever you think is best," Draco responded, mechanically.

Blaise caught his tone and winked, "Draco, mate, lets make these ladies some drinks," he laughed as he pulled Draco into one of the lavishly decorated seating rooms.

"Wow, Greengrass wasted no time redecorating, did she? Are you sure you can afford a wedding after this?" Blaise asked, looking around.

"Don't remind me. It's nice to have some light in here after everything, but _Merlin_ , the woman knows how to shop," Draco moaned as he poured drinks. He knew Astoria and Daphne would be awhile. Astoria had changed her mind, again, on the style of her dress robes, and would want Daphne's approval before sending the design to her wedding coordinator.

"Hey, Draco, what's up? Sarah said you weren't yourself all day at work. She even said she had to remind you about the meeting with China today," Blaise was far too observant.

"First, stop hitting on my secretary. She shouldn't be telling you these things," Draco's stare could have killed a man, had Blaise not had twenty years of practice ignoring it.

"I can't help it if every girl you hire wants me," he chuckled.

"I can fire you." Draco drawled.

"You still wouldn't be rid of me, though. Pretty sure _Lady Malfoy_ is still trying to get me to fall in love with her sister. The way she parades Daphne in front of me, the farce of wedding planning to get us together for dinner, we could be brothers soon," Blaise threw a pillow at Draco, who wasn't paying attention.

" _Don't_ call her Lady Malfoy. My mother still lives, as if I need to remind you. She is the true lady of the Manor. If I had any other option…" Draco responded.

"Let's be serious, Draco, Astoria is the best you're going to get for this image you're trying to convey. She's beautiful. She's untouched by the war. She's got the pedigree, even ignoring the blood status. The only way you'd do better is to marry Granger," he threw himself down on the couch, totally at ease in same sitting room Granger had been tortured in not even five years ago. Draco winced at that thought. "And we both know that would never happen."

Blaise was right, Draco knew it. While his business was going well and the Malfoy investments were flourishing, he knew public opinion had not changed. He was a Malfoy. He looked too much like his father. No amount of damage control would change that. No amount of donations to charity, no good deeds. He was damned. And he would be stuck with Astoria forever.

"Fuck," Draco muttered, finishing his glass of firewhiskey, "maybe I do need Granger."

"Yeah, I could see it now, Potter and Weasley would shit fireworks," Blaise finished as the girls walked into the sitting room, giggling about something.

* * *

Draco found himself at that same coffee shop the next morning. He didn't know why his feet lead him there, but he had time to kill before his first meeting. The place was busier than normal for a Friday. _Probably because it's snowing outside_ , he thought, searching for a seat near the fire, where he could stay warm until he needed to leave.

He spotted a familiar looking hat and felt slightly embarrassed at the way he yelled at the poor girl when it was his fault that he wasn't paying attention. With a cup of tea in both hands, he made his way over to her. _She has an empty seat, maybe if I apologize for yesterday, she wont mind if I sit near her. Besides, her nose is shoved into a book anyway_ , he thought.

"Peace offering?" he said in a strong, steady tone, causing her to glance up from her book, obviously caught off guard.

Gray eyes met amber.

"Fuck," he cursed a little too loudly, causing the heads near him to turn.

Draco spun on his heel, heading out into the snow. What were the chances? He hadn't seen her since the Final Battle. She avoided his trial. And every charity event, even when they were both being honored. But she was here. In Diagon Alley. In _his_ coffee shop. Blocks from his office. What were the chances?

He barely noticed as a hand reached up to touch his shoulder as he was waiting to cross the street.

* * *

Hermione loved the snow. It had been one of her favorite parts of winters at Hogwarts. She had been anxious to get her morning started, knowing she had some business to attend to before heading to Hogwarts. McGonagall had found out Hermione was back in town, not that she was hiding or being discreet, and had invited her to the castle for a late lunch.

She never expected to run into Draco Malfoy. And he had even been acting civil. Surely he didn't know it was her, then. Was the short hair and hat enough to make him forget the girl he teased relentlessly for years?

Then he was running out of the coffee shop. He looked like he had seen a ghost. She, of course, shoved her book in her handbag and followed him out into the snow. He was mumbling to himself as she walked up behind him. She noticed he had two cups of tea, and smiled slightly remembering yesterday. _At least he's not above making amends these days_ , she thought as she reached up and gingerly touched his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

"Malfoy?"

His spine straightened at the sound of her voice. It sounded… _surreal_ was the best word he could think of. Like a far off memory. It had a hint of Granger in it, but it sounded heavy.

"Granger," he drawled as he turned around to face her, unsure of what to say next.

They had never been civil. Surely she had nothing to say to him now. Why had she followed him out of the coffee shop?

"How," she paused. It looked like she was trying to muster up the courage to do this, "How are you?" she finally asked.

"Peachy," Malfoy responded before walking away from her, dumping both teas in the nearest trash bin.

* * *

"Cancel my morning meetings," Draco nearly yelled at his assistant as he walked into his office. "Oh, and tell Zabini he better be in my office within the minute, or he's fired," he stuck is head out to finish before slamming the door.

"53…54…55…."

"Oh, I'm early?" Blaise was obviously having a much better morning than Draco, but immediately shut his mouth when he saw Draco's face.

"What are the chances that after our little _conversation_ last night, I would run into her in that damned coffee shop?" Malfoy was almost yelling, and was thankful his office had a silencing spell, otherwise his assistant would surely stick her nose into his business.

"What do you… _Granger?_ You saw _Granger_?" Oh, Blaise looked like he was going to break into laughter any second. That didn't make Draco feel any better.

"Did you _know_ she was back?" Draco asked, trying to keep his voice calm. It was almost too convenient that Blaise mentioned her last night, after he had walked into her, and then he sees her today.

"Mate, hate to break it to you, I just found out this morning, myself," Blaise was handing Draco a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that featured a very large picture of Granger with the headline _Ready to Make Nice?_ displayed among the top of the page.

Draco tossed it to the side and waved Blaise out. He couldn't handle the fact he had made a fool in front of himself in front of Granger. He had offered peace, whatever that meant. _Fuck, it was because I felt bad I spilled tea on her_ , if he thought it enough, it was bound to be true, right?

Deciding to take a personal day, after the week he had been having, Draco flooed to the small flat he kept near the office. Astoria had quickly taken over the Manor, insisting it needed a woman's touch. Draco was offended at this comment, as his mother had consistently kept the Manor updated with the latest styles, and Astoria did not hold a candle to her tastes. He eventually obliged, though, aiming to make his future wife happy. He had hoped it would ease the painful memories of the war, but it hadn't.

Two years ago, shortly after he and Astoria announced their engagement officially, he purchased this flat. It was modest, compared to the Manor, but it was also completely his. You couldn't locate it, apparate to it, or floo. In fact, the only floo connection was through his personal office.

The flat looked over a rather large nature area and received plenty of natural light, a vast change from the dungeons of Hogwarts and the darkness that eventually seeped through the Manor. Draco loved it here. He never touched his wand, opting instead for the vast muggle technology he had been denied much of his life. He had a computer, a state-of-the-art sound system, large television, and multiple video game systems. He also had shelves of movies; every genre, both muggle and wizard made. This had become his sanctuary.

Draco rolled up his sleeves and went to the kitchen. Cooking had become a bit of a distraction for him over the last few years, and he had become rather good at it. He remembered flipping through the muggle television channels when he first got the box installed, and stumbling upon a show where a plump lady who looked very much like Mrs. Weasley instructed people how to prepare dishes. He laughed at how simple it looked.

Draco learned a lot about muggle cleaning that first year, realizing the cooking was messier than the lady made it seem. But now he had discovered a passion. Astoria never let him cook for her, always insisting the elves would feel hurt if they lost that responsibility. Draco doubted if Astoria had ever even made her own toast as he pulled out the ingredients to make lasagna. All thoughts of this morning had faded from his mind.

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure how she had expected the interaction with Malfoy to go. She was sure he would have caused a scene as soon as she touched him. After all, why would someone so _impure_ think it was okay to touch mister high-and-mighty himself? She still wasn't sure why she had followed him out of the coffee shop. Maybe it was because he _knew_ her. He was the first person in years she had seen after she decided they were dead to her. It sent a strange feeling through her. It felt like… _home_?

 _No_ , she shook her head and decided, _Malfoy just surprised me, that's all_. Hermione turned on her heel and apparated to Hogsmeade, deciding heading to Hogwarts early would be a good distraction.

* * *

Many of the students had already been sent home on holiday, so Hermione wasn't surprised that the halls were empty. In fact, she was thankful. Walking the grounds up to the castle had been difficult enough. She was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. The last time she had been here there had been rubble and debris. Bodies had lined up in the Great Hall. She had said goodbye to many friends that day.

Hermione found herself wandering towards Gryffindor Tower. Before she could realize where she was, the Fat Lady swung open, admitting her. _Of course, even the portraits care about who I am_ , she scoffed as she climbed through the hole in the wall.

The fire was still burning strong, evidence that the elves were taking care of at least one student who had stayed for holiday. Hermione sat on the couch in front of the fire taking in the room. It hadn't changed much. In fact, she could almost convince herself that Harry and Ron would come running down the stairs any minute with some harebrained scheme that was sure to put them in harms way.

Her eyes started watering. She wrapped her arms around herself for comfort as she stared into the fire, wondering what life would have been like if Voldemort had never returned. Would she have ended up friends with Harry and Ron?

"Hey," said a voice behind her.

Hermione jumped.

"It's only me," Neville kept his calm tone as he walked into view. He had grown. The soft boy had become a strong man. The line of his jaw was defined. His sweater showed the breadth of his chest. Hermione could hardly believe it was the same person.

"You're back?" He kept talking in that strangely calm voice; a voice too similar to the one Malfoy used this morning.

"Yeah, arrived yesterday," she muttered, never moving her eyes from the fire.

"Do Harry and Ron…"

"No, and I don't really care for them to. We went our separate ways many years ago," the tears were coming back now. She knew when she said goodbye to Ron that it was the end of their friendship, a friendship that had lasted half her life.

"Okay. How are you? Last anyone heard you were in America?" Neville understood. He always understood. In so many ways he was better than all of them. Maybe he should have been the chosen one, Hermione found herself thinking.

"Yeah, did some sightseeing, made alliances with other wizarding communities. You know me, paragon of good to the core," she could feel the bitterness in her own voice.

"How are you and Luna?" she asked. She was always better talking about other people. Never about herself. That revealed too many buried emotions.

"Well, _Merlin_ , Hermione, it really has been awhile," Neville was rubbing his neck when Hermione caught the glint of gold on his hand.

"You're married?!" She couldn't hide the honest joy that came to her voice. Yet, a voice in the back of her head whispered _nobody cared enough to find you or invite you, some friends they are_. Hermione silenced this voice, a million questions for Neville running through her mind.

"Actually, I _am_ married, but not to Luna," he met her eyes seeing the confusion forming, "she left me, not the other way. Merlin, I loved her." He was smiling! He was married, but he still remembered the love he had for Luna.

Is that how everyone was now? Had everyone locked away the years spent battling Death Eaters? Did everyone else start over, completely removed from anything that reminded them of the war? No, they weren't all her. They didn't have the aversion to the memories that she did. They weren't branded, marked, betrayed.

Hermione subconsciously ran a hand over the faded scar Bellatrix Lestrange gave her. "Who are you married to, then?" she asked, honestly curious.

"Hannah," Neville could see Hermione wracking her brain. Merlin, they were in the same year, how could she not remember? "Abbott. Hannah Abbott." OH! She was sweet enough.

"Congratulations, Neville!" Hermione did not remember the last time she was genuinely happy to see another person so content with their life.

"Thanks. I'm actually about to head home for holiday. Hannah's got a big surprise for me, she says. Originally I was going to stay; there's a few kids here without anywhere to go. War orphans, ya know?" He didn't meet her eye when he said that last part.

"Anyone I kn-"

"No, nobody. I just wanted to check in on them before I left. Good seeing you, Hermione." Neville looked unsure about whether he should attempt to hug her or not, and after a few seconds of awkwardly standing in front of her, made for the boys staircase.

Hermione checked her watch, noting she was meeting McGonagall in five minutes, and headed for the Headmistresses office.

* * *

"I'll think about it, Headmistress," Hermione smiled over her tea. She can't say she was completely surprised at what the Headmistress had wanted to discuss, but she was a little taken aback that McGonagall had called on her so quickly upon her return to London.

"Oh, my dear Ms. Granger, please, after all we've been through, it's Minerva, please," the older lady said with the same no-nonsense tone she conducted her classes with.

"Of course," Hermione nodded slightly, "only if you'll extend the same courtesy to me, however," she said. They had fought side by side against the darkest wizards history had known. They had grieved together. Surely they could both call each other by their given name.

The older lady nodded, simultaneously agreeing with Hermione's request and dismissing their meeting.

Hermione gathered her things and made her way out of the office. She was lost in thought of her discussion with McGonagall as she walked down the hallway. McGonagall wanted Hermione to be the new Charms professor at Hogwarts. This was no shock. Really, she had offered Hermione any position she may have wanted, but mentioned that Flitwick was reaching retirement and there was no strong candidate to replace him.

Hermione wasn't sure if she wanted to return to this castle. So many memories, both good and bad, came to mind. _It would mean settling down_ , a voice in her head told her, _which means you have commitments. No more running. People will depend on you_. She wasn't sure how she had felt about that. She didn't need the money, and she certainly owed nobody favors. If she stayed, it would be purely because she had decided it was time for her to find a place to call home.

"Fancy seeing you twice in one day, Granger. What do I owe this pleasure," a voice drawled from behind her. She had been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed that, once again, Malfoy was in her path.

"What are you doing here?" she said with as much animosity as she could muster. She had taken a chance this morning, and he had been harsh towards her. She wouldn't do that again.

"Meeting with McGonagall. Thought about cancelling it after," he stopped mid sentence and just looked at her. She felt a little self-conscious and hoped her beauty charms were sticking. She didn't need Malfoy to know she carried her demons with her.

"She's free. I just left. Have a nice holiday, Malfoy," Hermione said evenly once she realized he was not going to finish his thought.

He nodded and walked away from her, his walk just as confident as it had been all those years ago, when they were just children in these hallways. Though, there was something different about the way he was looking at her. His eyes weren't nearly as cold as they had been this morning. And what did he have to talk to McGonagall about? That much couldn't have changed since she had left. Malfoy was certainly still a prat who lived off of his daddy's fortune.

Hermione cast a disillusionment charm on herself and followed Malfoy past the stone gargoyle. She'd curse herself later for letting her curiosity get the best of her. Hopefully her charm would last long enough, she was pretty rusty these days after years of not relying on magic.

"Mister Malfoy," the older lady acknowledged him with a handshake and more warmth in her face than she had shown Hermione.

 _What's the deal?_

"Headmistress," Malfoy nodded his head in response to her, "I was hoping we could talk about the scholarships for the orphans?"

 _He's his father's son! I swear! If he gives her any grief, I'll reveal myself and curse him right here!_

"Of course, Mister Malfoy. Your contribution this last semester allowed us enough funds to ensure each child has a proper holiday. We also have enough left over for next semester to ensure they will all be fitted with new robes and new editions of their textbooks. Surely you can allow us to let the Board of Govenors recognize you for your actions?" McGonagall was flipping through a file as she was speaking, as if this was routine.

 _I'm so sure, it's nothing but a public relations stunt. What better way to show he's not 'daddy's boy' than to fund the school his father tried to destroy._ Hermione was rolling her eyes.

"Minerva," Draco held up a hand as if to pre-emptively stop her rebuttal, "we go through this every year. It's not about the recognition. I want to ensure that _every_ student has the opportunity for a magical education. Their background should not be a deciding factor. Now, I really do have to get going. Please let me know if you need anything."

He was standing.

 _What is he playing at? This is_ Malfoy.

Hermione was so lost in her own thoughts she barely caught the door before it closed, but he was nowhere in sight.

* * *

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Authors note: I mean, I wrote 3 chapters tonight. I may do more. But it would be nice if you guys would review at let me know if you at least like it. Please?


	4. Chapter 4

If you couldn't tell, I'm not a huge fan of Author's notes. I don't have much to say... I'm incredibly thankful for all the people who have read the few chapters I've posted. I'd love feedback. But anyway, back to the story.

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* * *

Hermione was at a loss at what to think of Malfoy willingly donating money to Hogwarts. She would have expected this from Harry, of course, if he hadn't been so wrapped up in Ginny.

 _Ugh_. She thought. _Ginny Weasley needs to grow up_. Hermione and Ginny had been friends during their Hogwarts years merely because of their proximity to Ron and Harry. The two women could not have been more opposite, though, and Hermione always knew the friendship would run its course.

Hermione had been thrilled when Ginny had finally started dating around, seemingly deciding she no longer wanted Harry. The youngest Weasley had never had a strong female role model growing up, despite everything Molly had done to keep good heads on her children's shoulders. Plus, Hermione found it disturbing how infatuated Ginny had been with Harry as a child.

Sure, Hermione had known who Harry was. He was famous. Everyone knew his name and his story. But Hermione did not build her friendship with him on that fame. Ginny Weasley only wanted Harry as a means to an end. Nabbing the Wizarding world's most eligible bachelor would give her name power.

Hermione missed Harry dearly. He had been the closest thing to a sibling she had experienced as a child. They had leaned on each other a lot over the years. But once Harry and Ginny decided they were moving their relationship forward after the Final Battle, Hermione just could not stand to be around them. They were always fighting. Ginny was insecure in their relationship, constantly accusing Harry of cheating on her. _Though, from the pictures_ Witch Weekly _manages to grab, looks like Ginny is just projecting_ , Hermione mused as she ate her breakfast.

She was back in that same coffee shop this morning. If the pattern held out, Malfoy would sure stop in before heading to his offices. Hermione was determined to understand more about the change of heart he seemed to have.

There was merely one part of her plan she hadn't worked out: he wouldn't talk to her. How would she get close enough to him to expose him as the Death Eater's son who had made her life hell for seven years when he couldn't even look her in the eye?

 _But just the other day, at Hogwarts, he tried to talk to you_ , she reminded herself. She thought back to that moment in the hallway. It was so unlike the dozens they had shared over the years. He felt warmer, more open, more… _human_.

Shaking her head, Hermione went back to reading about Ron's week in Bali with some little French tart.

* * *

Draco was in a good mood this morning. He had spent most of the weekend in his flat pretending his fortune wasn't being manhandled by a blonde with an attitude.

 _Funny_ , he smirked, remembering when he, himself, had been exactly that: a blonde with an attitude.

He had spent the weekend getting ahead on work, however, and was thoroughly looking forward to his business trip later this week. Malfoy Industries was involved in various lines of investment, both muggle and wizard. He enjoyed hearing about new business plans and getting in on the ground floor. Because of this, his company was responsible for the marketing of a wide variety of products. His biggest asset in London was currently the Weasley joke shop.

After the Battle, when Fred died, business had slowed and George was unsure if he was going to be able to keep the doors open. He just didn't seem to have any interest in the development of new products without his other half. Draco frowned, remembering the day George had come to see him about selling the business.

 _"Weasley," Draco greeted coolly. He wasn't expecting the redheaded man to enter his office looking so… serious._

 _"Mr. Malfoy," he responded with a curt nod. "A mutual business connection had mentioned to me that you are looking to invest in strong business models?"_

 _So he was going to get right down to the point. Draco had to admit it was strange for the man to call the meeting. He had guessed Blaise was the one who was spreading the word of Draco's new business model, but he had no idea how those two had become connected._

 _"I am. But, your profits have fallen for the last six months straight. The war is over. People want to remember what it was like to laugh. There's no excuse for your business to be failing, and I will not waste money on a failed venture."_

 _"You've done your homework, Malfoy."_

 _"I have an entire team that watches concepts I am interested in investing in. It's my job to know where to put my money."_

 _Draco tried to put himself in the other man's shoes. Surely getting back to work after the War hadn't been easy, but so many other businesses were thriving. Many were bringing muggle technology into the wizard way of life. These hybrids had quickly become Draco's most interesting stores._

 _"Malfoy, the store has potential. Lee has already agreed to stay on and help run it. He's been a partner since the beginning. I just want my part bought out," the man barely held himself together when he said the last part._

 _Having grown up an only child, Draco didn't understand what it felt like to be missing a part of you, the way the broken man in front of him seemed to. Still…_

 _"I'm sorry. I cannot accept your offer."_

 _"Oh, bugger off Malfoy, is this because of some school aged vendetta against my family?" Draco smiled. While the man was calmer than his younger brother, he could see the natural resentment for who Draco used to be._

 _"If you would let me finish," Draco said, clearing his throat as he shuffled a few papers unnecessarily, "I would have informed you that I couldn't agree to the offer to buy out your business. I will, however, become a silent partner, as long as you remain President and C.E.O. of the company. I assume this is acceptable?"_

 _George's mouth dropped, and Draco was once again reminded of Ron._

 _"You will be paid a substantial salary for your role, with a comprehensive benefit package, which, should it be of interest to you, includes grief counseling for those affected by the War. It is completely confidential, but we strongly recommend the option to every account we take on. We will also work with you and Mr. Jordan to develop a plan that would have your shop internationally recognized within five years."_

 _Draco finally looked at the man, and for a moment felt pity._

 _"That is all, my assistant will be in touch," he waved the redhead out of his office._

He couldn't place why he had taken the risk on George, but the man had become a decent business partner since then. It had only taken two years for the joke shop to outsell Zonko's making it the most recognized brand in the Wizarding world. Another year had them opening their first store outside of Great Britain.

Draco opened the door to the coffee shop, mildly wondering why he never found himself sending Sarah to run such a mundane errand. It was such an average person thing to do, but Draco enjoyed it every much.

"Can I get a double shot espresso and an earl grey, please?" Draco asked the barista behind the counter.

He was in the middle of pulling out his card – thank _Merlin_ Gringotts had hopped on the idea of cards for payment, it meant never needing to worry about exchanging wizard and muggle currency again – when the barista said "No charge, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked at the man confused. "I'm sorry?"

"The lady in the corner, she said to add anything you purchased this morning to her bill," he gestured with his thumb towards the fireplace. Sure enough, it was Granger sitting there.

Draco nodded in her direction as he took the two hot cups and headed out into the snow.

 _Bloody hell…_ he thought as he remembered the faint smell of vanilla that assaulted his senses all weekend. Would he have to keep crossing paths with her?

* * *

Hermione had figured Malfoy wouldn't take the bait this morning. He had attempted civility and she had shoved it back in his face. She knew his ego would prevent him from doing so much as saying _thank you_ for a bloody cup of coffee.

That was fine. She figured if she could seem to be extending an olive branch, perhaps she could get close enough to him to expose his lies.

 _This would be so much easier with Harry and Ron_ , she thought as she reached into her bag. Pulling out a long roll of parchment, Hermione set to work. She had told McGonagall she would have an answer for her before the new year, and while she was absolutely certain she had zero plans of staying in London, she also needed to let her analytical side take control.

It was so easy for her to step back into a familiar routine here. She _could_ work for Hogwarts. She _could_ find a permanent place to live. Hell, if the stars lined up, maybe she could even become friends with Harry and Ron again.

* * *

Draco was sitting in his office as Blaise rambled about some witch he had spent the weekend with. Draco could not possible care less, he just felt bad that Blaise had left the office door open and Sarah was sure to hear all about the weekend's activities.

 _Maybe it was intentional_. Draco was slightly amused at how long Sarah had been able to avoid sleeping with Blaise, though Blaise made a point to try weekly. _Maybe he wants her to think he's some sort of sex god_. Draco almost snorted at this thought. Everyone had thought he had been incredibly sexually active at Hogwarts, and surely Blaise was to thank for that reputation, but Draco had only slept with very few women in his life. He never wanted to accidentally impregnate some witch who wanted to carry the next Malfoy heir.

Blaise was still talking, well, more like reenacting his weekend with the witch. Apparently she had quite the skill in bed. Draco reached for his tea, still warm from this morning. He found himself thinking of Granger. This was the first day he saw her without the silly hat. She had cut her hair. The soft, short curls complimented her face, he noticed.

He still couldn't figure out why she was back, though. Obviously she hadn't made up with Potter or Weasley; the papers would have been all over that happy reunion. But he kept running into her. And she was always alone.

Draco noticed from the corner of his eye that Blaise was staring at him strangely.

"Good tea, mate?" he asked a little too curious.

Had Draco muttered something about his passing thoughts of Granger?

"Blaise, get back to work," he grumbled, tossing the tea away. As Blaise was standing, Sarah's voice came over the office intercom.

"Mister Malfoy, Miss Greengrass is on the line."

Blaise rolled his eyes at Draco as he answered the line. She called at 10a.m. every day just to ensure Draco was doing fine and to inform him she had some ridiculous event that she just _couldn't miss_ planned and would not be at the Manor over his lunch hour.

 _As if the day would come where I want to spend more time with her than necessary._ He had not spent a lunch hour with her since they had announced their engagement, and the ones before were merely for the effect of courting her.

Her important events were varying sales at different stores, both muggle and wizard alike, and the never-ending wedding planning.

"Astoria, love, how did you sleep?" he asked routinely. She often slept past the time he left for work in the morning, which always resulted in a fight about how he never stayed to have breakfast with her.

Apparently today was going to be that kind of day.

"You need to fire your assistant." she said sharply.

"Pray tell why?"

"As always, I insisted she refer to me as Mrs. Malfoy, and she refused. Draco, baby, the wedding is only a few weeks away, and if she won't respect me now, she certainly won't after!"

Oh, boy. This argument happened once a week. Astoria had insisted on being referred to as Mrs. Malfoy or Lady Malfoy to varying degrees since their engagement. In fact, she had fallen asleep on the couch one evening with a book on her chest. Upon closer inspection, Draco noticed it was from the Malfoy family library and was one of the last remaining copies of ancient wizard marriage laws. He was hoping there was nothing in there about her taking his name _before_ they were married, or he never would have heard the end of it.

"The color Daphne picked out is atrocious, Draco, it doesn't go with anything! Of course I'll have to spend the entire afternoon –"

He had completely stopped listening to her voice, hoping that the call would end quicker if he just allowed her to ramble, but it seemed like there was a never-ending list of complaints this morning.

"Love, I really wish we could spend lunch together so I could hear the rest of this story. Tell me over dinner? I have to go, our newest client seems to have walked himself into quite the public relations nightmare," he knew mentioning his work in the slightest would quickly end her tirade.

Draco rubbed his hand over his eyes. How would he deal with decades of this? He had always imagined his marriage would be more of a partnership. While his mother's primary occupation had been the managing of the Malfoy social calendar, that was the proper role for her time and she filled it magnificently. Yet, Draco wanted a modern bride who wasn't afraid to have her own life. In fact, he could care less about social expectations. He did not care for a stay at home wife who spent all of his money.

Sighing, Draco pressed the intercom on his phone.

"Sarah, if anyone needs me today, I'll be out doing some shopping in the Alley."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," she answered quickly. He knew she could handle most things, and Blaise would be glad to step in where she fell short.

His wedding was in less than three weeks. Christmas Day. Of course Astoria had to take such a large event and turn it into something to do with her. Now she'd forever claim that the reason London's Christmas celebrations were so large was to celebrate her marriage to Draco. He groaned at the thought.

Draco still had some Christmas shopping to do, however. He had made a point the last handful of years to present each of his senior executives with personal, thoughtful gifts. He had noticed Sarah glancing through at book at _Flourish and Blotts_ a few weeks ago. It'd be perfect.


End file.
